You have seen her a thousand times and never truly seen her.

You pass her by in the meadow, sun drenched and serene,
white asphodel braided through her hair,
pomegranate pips cool and bright in her palm.
Without hesitation or ceremony, she offers —
to steady your thirst, anchor your breath.

You pass her by at the edge of night,
where the world thins and sound falls away.
Without hesitation or ceremony, she lights your way —
whispers courage into your heart,
keeping harm from finding your name.

And because she does not bare her teeth,
because her hands are open,
you dismiss her as soft.
Something to toy with.
To take from without care.

You mistake her kindness for permission.

But don’t mistake the hand that guides for a hand that cannot strike.

She is a siren of the inbetween, and her grace lies in choosing restraint and balance.
When you push her to the jagged edges of being, her light does not dim, it ignites

When pressed beneath the light, hunted behind smiles and sanctimony, the honey in her eyes curdles to ink — blessings withdrawn.
The air thins, warmth recedes, and Hunger learns your name.

When held beneath the dark, her sovereignty is revealed
her violet mantle flares —
a burning beacon that sears through the dark.
Eyes unwavering — shadows kneel, and your fate is no longer yours to argue.

All within the breath of a moment.
She stills.
Tilts her head, and you see the faint curve of her knowing smile.
Her silent call to arms.
For she is never truly alone; from root to wing, shadow and flame rise as her judgement takes hold

Built from ash and the embers of storms survived,
from everything she did not let break her.

She is smarter, crueler, and more loving than any side you have ever chosen.

Measured in her balance.
Absolute in her reach.
She is the Grey —
Only unseen — until she is not.